Part 2

The first pictures painted at Mantua were the beautiful triptych of the "Adoration of the Kings," "Circumcision," and "Ascension," now in the Uffizi, Florence; the "Death of the Virgin," in the Prado Gallery; and the remarkable "Pietà," of the Brera Gallery; the last probably a study only, as it was still in Mantegna's studio when the artist passed away, for which reason it has erroneously been attributed to a later period. Unpleasing though it is with its startling realism, the "Dead Christ" is of special value as a study in perspective, and, in the opinion of Dr. Kristeller, it was painted with a view to its being seen from below, for he says, "It is only as a ceiling painting, with its perspective point of sight coinciding with the central point of the ceiling, that the figure would appear correctly foreshortened. There can be no doubt," he adds, "that it was painted as a preliminary study for the nude youth standing inside the balustrade on the ceiling decoration of the Camera degli Sposi and for other figures in ceiling pictures." However that may be, the strange composition stands alone among its author's works, and will probably always remain a subject of contention to critics, so variously do its peculiarities affect different temperaments.

In addition to the oil-paintings quoted above, Mantegna also produced between 1459 and 1460 a large number of frescoes for the various residences of the Marquis of Mantua, but unfortunately no trace of them remains. The earliest extant works of the kind are those of the Camera degli Sposi in the Castello di Corte, which were completed in 1474, and in spite of their melancholy condition of decay, the result chiefly of their having been executed on a dry instead of a damp surface, are ranked amongst the most noteworthy examples of fifteenth-century decorative art in existence. Not only are they admirably executed and thoroughly suitable for the position they occupy, but they also inaugurate a new departure in historical portraiture, the principal subjects being groups of the various members of the Gonzaga family, the most interesting and characteristic of which is, perhaps, that representing the meeting between the Marquis Lodovico and Cardinal Francesco, already referred to as containing a portrait of the artist.

In the other frescoes of the Camera degli Sposi the Cardinal, who by this time had become Papal Legate of Bologna and Bishop of Mantua, is conspicuous by his absence, his high position in the Church making his visits to his home very rare, and leading to his being received with much pomp and ceremony when he did appear. On this occasion he and his father, who was accompanied by his two eldest grandsons, were each attended by a great retinue, and Mantegna has managed with considerable skill, whilst preserving a certain homeliness, to convey an impression of grandeur, the noble figures of the actors in the scene standing out against a fine landscape background, from which rises up the city of Mantua.

The decorations of the Camera degli Sposi so delighted the Marquis that he presented their author with an estate in the heart of the city, on which Mantegna at once began to build a princely mansion, part of which is now converted into a college. Long before it was finished, however, he was saddened by the death of Lodovico, who passed away in 1478, soon after he had commissioned what was to be his beloved court painter's greatest masterpiece--the series of pictures representing the "Triumph of Cæsar," that are now at Hampton Court, having been bought in 1624 from the then reigning Marquis by Charles I. Lodovico was succeeded by his son Federico, who treated Mantegna with the same affectionate consideration as his predecessor had done, taking a deep interest in his welfare and sympathising with him in his domestic anxieties. On October 25, 1478, he wrote to the artist, who had been unable to complete some work for him through illness, begging him to try and get well as quickly as possible, but not to worry about the delay, and later he did all in his power for Mantegna's delicate boy, inquiring constantly after him, and giving his father a letter of introduction to the famous physician, Girardo da Verona, that is of special interest, affording, as it does, an all-too-rare glimpse of the painter as a man as well as an artist, trembling for the life of his suffering child. The Marquis begs the doctor, to consult whom Mantegna took his son to Venice in 1480, "to show every possible consideration to our noble and well-beloved servant"; and though the journey was all in vain, the patient having died soon after the return to Mantua, the solicitude shown on his behalf by the Marquis must have touched the heart of his sorrowing parents.

In 1481 the court of Mantua was thrown into mourning by the death of the Dowager-Marchesa Barbara, who had from the first been a very kind friend to Mantegna, and two years later her son, Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga, to whom the artist was devotedly attached, also passed away. When, in 1484, Federico himself died suddenly, and his eighteen-year-old son, Gian Francesco--generally referred to by his second name only--became Marquis in his stead, Mantegna seems to have feared that his position at Mantua would be adversely affected by all the changes that were taking place, and he hastened to offer his services to Lorenzo de' Medici, with whom he had some slight acquaintance, and whose liberality as a patron of art and literature was well known. What reply was made by the Florentine duke to his suggestion is not known; but it soon became evident that the new ruler of Mantua knew as well if not better than his father and grandfather had done before him, how to value his court painter, and one of the first acts of his reign was to ask Mantegna to paint a picture for him to present to the Duchess Eleonora of Mantua, mother of his affianced bride, Isabella d'Este, who was then only ten years old, but was later to become one of the artist's most liberal patrons and faithful admirers.

The picture in question is supposed to have been the fine "Madonna and Child," with a background of cherubs' heads, now in the Brera Gallery, Milan, considered, so far as its colouring is concerned, one of Mantegna's most brilliant achievements. According to some authorities, it had already been ordered some months before by the Duchess, and all Francesco had to do with it was to urge the artist to finish it without further delay; but, in any case, the young Marquis was constantly in the studio whilst it was in progress, chatting with the painter now about the work, now about his own private affairs. He was, it is said, deeply in love with his betrothed, or rather with the idea he had formed of her, for it is doubtful whether he had yet seen her, the wooing having been done by proxy as long previously as 1480, when the little maiden of six had delighted the Mantuan envoy with her grace and charm. No sooner was the picture signed, before the eager suitor had it packed, and started with it for Ferrara, where it was received with the greatest enthusiasm, not only by the Duchess herself but by the whole court, which, under the enlightened rule of Duke Ercole I. was a centre of culture, to which flocked artists, poets, musicians, humanists, and other leaders of the æsthetic and intellectual life of the day.

Of the actual meeting between the engaged couple no record has been preserved; but it is evident from letters written home by the Marquis that his expectations were more than fulfilled, Isabella already giving promise of the exceptional qualities which were to make her one of the most fascinating and influential women of her time, the memory of whose sweet and gracious presence still lingers both in Ferarra and Mantua. It was difficult for her lover to tear himself away when the day came for him to return home, where his presence was greatly needed; but before he left, he exacted a promise from Duchess Eleonora that she would bring her daughter to Mantua in the autumn of the same year.

It is easy to imagine how much Francesco had to confide to his court painter when he paid his next visit to the studio; how he dwelt on the charms of his beloved Isabella, and lamented over the years that must elapse before she could become his wife. He found Mantegna eagerly engaged on the preliminary drawings for the "Triumph of Cæsar," and to the instructions already given by Lodovico Gonzaga he added a wish that all the distinguished guests who were soon to meet at his court should be introduced in the processions, as well as the chief members of his own family. Mantegna, he may have said, would have plenty of opportunities for making studies of them; and now he must put everything else aside for a time to design the decorations in honour of the visit of the bride-elect and her mother, which were to be a kind of foretaste of those in celebration of the wedding. In all the preparations for that great event he relied upon the co-operation of Mantegna, who must promise not to accept any invitation or commission that could interfere with his work on them, and, premature as this must have appeared to the artist, he readily gave the required assurance.

All passed over as happily as Francesco himself could have wished during the brief stay at Mantua of Eleonora and Isabella, who won all hearts by their sympathetic appreciation of everything that was done to please them. After they left, the work on the "Triumph of Cæsar" proceeded apace, interrupted only now and then for the execution of minor commissions, such as the designing of jewellery, drinking-cups, &c.; but in 1488 came a very unwelcome summons for Mantegna to go to Rome, Pope Innocent VIII., who had heard of the beauty of the frescoes at Padua and Mantua, wishing to have a chapel in the Vatican decorated by their artist. Such an invitation had all the force of a command, and the Marquis was reluctantly compelled to let his beloved painter go; but before he left, he conferred on him the honour of knighthood, that he might take a better position in the papal court, and once more reminded him of the necessity that he should be back at Mantua in January 1490 at the very latest. Bearing with him a letter to the Pope, dated June 10, 1488, in which Francesco spoke of him in the very highest terms, Mantegna started for the Holy City, where he was welcomed with the greatest eagerness, not only by his new employer but by the ecclesiastical and secular notabilities, who vied with each other in doing him honour. Certain letters to the Marquis Francesco, however, betray discontent with the payment he received from the Pope, and also with the facilities for his work afforded him in the Vatican, a dissatisfaction that would, indeed, have been intensified could he have foreseen that the frescoes for which he sacrificed so much were to be ruthlessly destroyed in 1780, with the chapel containing them, to make room for the Museo Pio Clementina.

It is only from allusions to them by Vasari and descriptions by the later critics, Agostino Taja and Giovanni Pietro Chattard, who lived in the second half of the eighteenth century, and saw the frescoes shortly before their destruction, that any idea can be obtained of what they were; but a supposed copy of a portrait of Innocent VIII. included in them, is in the collection of the Archduke Ferdinand of Austria. That they were executed by Mantegna without any assistance is proved by a letter from him to the Marquis Francesco, dated June 15, 1489, in which he says, "The work is heavy for a man alone, intent on obtaining honours, especially in Rome, where opinion is expressed by so many able men, and as in the races run by Barbary horses the first gets the prize, so I too must gain in the end, if it please God."

It is unnecessary to dwell long on works of art that have completely disappeared. Suffice it to say that the frescoes were not finished in December 1489, but that Mantegna was hoping to get leave of absence from the Pope for February 1490, when he was suddenly struck down by fever, just before he would have started for Mantua had all been well. The long-talked-of wedding took place, therefore, during his absence, and he had, after all, absolutely nothing to do with the festivities in honour of the marriage, that were evidently of a magnificent description. It must have been, indeed, a keen mortification to him to have missed such a golden opportunity of proving his devotion to his Mantuan patron, and it is easy to realise with what mixed feelings he heard of the enthusiastic reception of the bride in her husband's native city. Accompanied by Isabella's parents, her uncle Cardinal d'Este, and her three young brothers, and escorted by a brilliant suite, the newly wedded pair entered the city on February 12th, the one drawback to their happiness, contemporary chroniclers report, having been the absence of the court painter, whose praises had been so often sung by the bridegroom.

Fortunately, the artist soon recovered from his illness, but it was not until September that he completed his work in Rome, and received permission from the Pope to return to Mantua. Innocent VIII. expressed himself in his letter of dismissal fully satisfied with the way in which his wishes had been carried out; but whether the artist was equally pleased with the reward for his services is questionable. He was evidently very glad to leave Rome, where, strange to say, in spite of his love for antiquity and the opportunities he must have enjoyed for his favourite study, he seems to have felt out of his element. His correspondence with the Marquis betrays considerable home-sickness, and contains absolutely no allusions to the art treasures of the Vatican. He pleads with his patron for an appointment for his son Lodovico, declares he is longing to be at work again on the "Triumph of Cæsar," and retails various items of court gossip, telling quaint stories, for instance, about the ill-fated Prince Djem, brother of the reigning Sultan of Turkey, who was then a prisoner in the Vatican, but not a word does he say to throw light on the political situation, which was already causing anxiety to the heads of the great Italian states. Back again in Mantua, Mantegna quickly threw off the depression revealed in his letters, resuming his old place as if he had never been away, his studio becoming once more the centre of artistic activity in the ancient town.

The court painter was as eagerly welcomed by the young Marchesa as by her husband, and for the rest of his life his fortunes were very closely bound up with those of the d'Este family, which is equivalent to saying that he was henceforth to be in close touch with the history of his native country, that was even then on the eve of the Revolution that was completely to change her position in the polity of nations. The Marquis of Mantua's bride was the only sister of Beatrice d'Este, who was married on December 29, 1490, to the brilliantly gifted but fickle, cruel, and crafty Lodovico Sforza, surnamed II Moro, who obtained the dukedom of Milan through treachery, and was mainly instrumental in bringing about the invasion of Italy by the French, a crime for which he was to pay dearly, first with his liberty and in the end with his life, for he died a prisoner in the Castle of Loches in 1508.

No hint of troubles to come saddened the first few months of Isabella d'Este's life at Mantua, her chief anxiety having apparently been concerning her beloved sister, whose lot was far less happy than her own. Lodovico Sforza had not been nearly so ardent a lover as Francesco Gonzaga, for he had a mistress, the lovely and learned Cecilia Gallerani, to whom he was devotedly attached, and who had been for many years treated by him as if she were his legal wife. It is significant of the indulgent manner in which such unions were regarded that his relations with her were not considered any bar to his marriage with an innocent young girl, whose parents did all in their power to hasten her engagement with him. It was very evident, however, that Beatrice did not share their eagerness, and it was to Isabella, who had hastened to Ferrara as soon as the matter was settled, that she turned for comfort in her shrinking dread of what was before her. That the Marchesa succeeded in reassuring her and bracing her up for the ordeal is proved by the dignified way in which the child-bride bore herself in the long-drawn-out and brilliant festivities that celebrated her union with a man more than double her own age, and the ease with which she took up the arduous duties of the wife of the leading and most powerful prince of Italy. It was with a heart relieved of its most pressing fears that the elder sister returned home, and the letters written to her by Beatrice in the months succeeding her departure reveal a growing attachment between the newly married couple, on which a seal was set in January 1493 by the birth of their first son.

The court of the Gonzagas now became the rendezvous of the leading authors, artists, and antiquarians of the day, who vied with each other in their enthusiastic admiration for the beautiful young Marchesa, though it is occasionally suggested by contemporary writers that as time went on some of them rather rebelled against her increasing exactions, for she would fain have had every one give up everything to obey her behests. She is even said to have sent imperious messages to such great celebrities as Perugino, Giovanni Bellini, and Leonardo da Vinci, bidding them come and help Mantegna to decorate her apartments, describing the subjects she wished them to interpret, and expressing herself as greatly aggrieved when they failed to appear. On the other hand, there is no doubt that she proved herself a most generous and considerate patron of her own court painter, and the four years after his return from Rome were probably among the happiest of Mantegna's life. He worked during them almost exclusively at the "Triumph of Cæsar," receiving no help from any other artist, completing the tenth composition in 1494, and making several sketches for others that were never finished. In these wonderful creations the artist realised the very spirit of antiquity, yet at the same time bequeathed to posterity a marvellously true series of presentments of the contemporary life of his time, full of significant incidents and effective contrasts, the various groups displaying a freedom of execution and force of expression such as Mantegna had never before achieved. For the first time realism and idealism were welded into one, and the past seemed actually to become the present, waking into new life not merely as an intellectual abstraction, but as a visible pageant of humanity.

The year of the successful conclusion of the "Triumph of Cæsar" was a disastrous one for Italy, for in July 1494 the Duke of Orleans, on the invitation of Lodovico Sforza, crossed the Alps, to be followed almost immediately by Charles VIII. The French King and the Duke of Orleans were welcomed with great enthusiasm by Il Moro, whose wife wrote glowing accounts to her sister at Mantua of the rejoicings over their arrival; but those who looked below the surface recognised what a fatal mistake had been made, and sinister rumours soon began to spread abroad as to the real motives of Lodovico Sforza. The death of his nephew Giangaleazzo at a most opportune moment for him led to suspicions of his having caused him to be poisoned, that were confirmed by the way in which he managed to get his claim to the succession recognised and the dead man's young son Francesco set aside in his own favour. For all that, he was allowed to assume the supreme authority at Milan without opposition, and contemporary chroniclers even comment on the kindness shown by him and his wife to the widowed duchess, to whom apartments were assigned in the palace that had so long been her home. Meanwhile, everything had remained quiet at Mantua, though all that was going on elsewhere was being watched with eager interest by the Gonzagas and Mantegna. Early in 1495 Isabella went to Milan to be with her sister, who was expecting her second child, and on February 4th a fine boy was born. In the brilliant festivities held to celebrate the great event the child's beautiful aunt is said to have taken a leading part, now receiving ambassadors from foreign courts to save the young mother fatigue, now advising her brother-in-law in some difficult question of etiquette, capping verses with Gaspare Visconti, criticising the work of Giovanni Bellini, or playing with her two-year-old nephew, Ercole, who simply worshipped her.

Suddenly, in the midst of all this light-hearted gaiety, came the news that Charles VIII. had entered Naples and been crowned King of Sicily, and though the bells of Milan were ostentatiously rung as if in rejoicing, a council was hastily summoned to consult on the best measures to save Italy from the French invaders. On April 12th a league against France was signed between Venice, Urbino, Mantua, Milan, King Ferdinand of Spain and the Emperor Maximilian; the Marquis of Mantua was made Generalissimo of the united Italian forces, and after taking an affectionate farewell of Mantegna, who, he said, would soon be called upon to paint a masterpiece in celebration of a victory, he set forth in high spirits at the head of his army. His words turned out to be prophetic, for on July 6th, at Fornovo, he defeated the French with great loss, fighting himself side by side with his soldiers in the front rank. Before he went into action he vowed that if he escaped unhurt he would build a church in honour of the Virgin at Mantua, and as soon as the battle was over he sent instructions to Mantegna to make plans of the building, and to design an altar-piece for it.